A Deer Moment

Early yesterday morning, I finally saw the deer that I suspect has been eating the flowers and vegetables I've been trying to grow. She (I think it is a doe) meandered down the sidewalk, and stopped to munch on the hostas that are in front of the house I've been living in this year. As she started to amble into the side yard, I quietly opened the front door and walked out onto the porch, and she turned toward me. Her limpid black eyes were completely unruffled; we just looked at each other appraisingly. I smiled, and greeted her, but then made the gentle request (yes, aloud!) that she not eat any of "my" flowers and vegetables. As I did so, I could feel the energetic dissonance -- if this is a "yes"-based universe, as I believe it is, then asking anyone not to do something is the same as inviting them to do something. Sure enough, she turned to go further into the yard. I went through the house to the back porch, and saw that she had meandered around, munching here and there. The loud back door hinge finally spooked her, I guess, and she ran off. When I walked the circuit a little later, the tops of two tomato plants had been eaten off. In previous weeks, a geranium and an impatiens had lost their flowers...I've relocated them and they seem to be coming back, but the tomatoes are a goner.

It's funny, I'm very sensitive to some criticism I've received about not being "into" gardening or the out-of-doors generally. How can I claim to be about the Goddess/Gaia/Mother Nature if I don't like getting my hands into the dirt or taking long hikes? Well, I don't know the answer to that. She takes many forms. I'm a Goddess-oriented American woman who would prefer to live in an English abbey or cathedral town, studying medieval manuscripts and singing choral evensong. I don't get it any more than anyone else, but that's the way it is, the life I haven't yet been able to create. The dozen or so flowers and vegetables I bought at the farmer's market were gardening on my terms, on a tiny scale, near the back door of the house. Spots of brilliant color, and a few veggies and herbs for later in the summer. These plants were pricy this year...they were only "mine" to the extent to which I spent money on them. But in the end, I wasn't surprised that my efforts to control Nature (in the form of this gentle but hungry doe) were unsuccessful. If I say that Mother Nature needs to do Her thing, then I need to walk my walk and talk my talk. I don't own the house I am in, or the ground under it, or the plants around it (whether I "bought" them or not) or the air around it, or the rain that falls on it, or the sun that warms it. This doe has as much right to these lush plants as I do, as does the little bunny out there this morning, eating the weeds between the sidewalk stones.

I know how fortunate I am...Nature doing Her thing has upended the lives of the people of Kentucky, say, in a far more extreme manner, and more and more of us are facing such cataclysms. As they take place, there is no time for philosophizing. But it will be interesting to see whether there will be a tipping point, where we all start to give the natural world the respect it so richly deserves. Where we stop trying so hard to be in control.

The Words of the Goddess 1: Love

I mentioned last time that I had come across a list I compiled many years ago of Goddess words/Words of the Goddess. I have no idea when I compiled it, and, unusually for me, I didn't date it. My impression is that I wrote it back in the early 2000's. It's on a piece of heavy cardboard in my own handwriting; I think I wrote the list over a day or two off the top of my head, an early effort to define, in my own mind, a divine feminine "energy". It's interesting, because starting around 2010, my focus shifted to a series of efforts to return to England and become involved in the cathedral choir world. Doing that required putting my Goddess list (and inner leanings) into a literal and figurative storage box for a few years.

It's very humbling to start presenting the words on this list. Some might see me (with my family background, my not having been a mother in this lifetime, etc.) as the most spectacularly inappropriate person to articulate what the energy of the Goddess is all about, particularly, the word "Love", which is the most important and overarching of them all. A case could be made that I know more about what love isn't than what love is. And there may be dozens of writers out there doing the same basic thing. This series of love-related words can undoubtedly be found in other spiritual traditions and many secular contexts. But increasingly, I feel led to speak for Her, to the best of my ability, or at the very least, to imagine what She would say or do. So here goes.

Dictionary definitions for the word "love" are almost ludicrously inadequate. Affection, caring, attraction...yes, those words are facets of love, but only facets.

To try to grasp the enormity of love, I envision those ancient sculptures of a woman giving birth to the whole world...and then on the other end of the spectrum, those astonishing new photographs of space taken by the Webb telescope. It's like, the universe began because of love, and every new (and old) form of life is a reflection of that love. It's an eternal river of the passion for creating; it is a painting where every color is love; it is a song of love, no matter what the key signature or instrument. I think we are already living in a world that is "only love", but in earlier times, contrasts were seen as evil, something to fight. That perception of duality is literally breaking up as we speak, and in a future unity/harmony construct, all of us will joyfully embrace the "other". We will have the capacity to love more often and more passionately, and when we cannot, we won't get stuck in fear or hatred, we'll just let go and move on, like drops of water in a powerful river.

The only viable path through the coming changes is love. Finding something to love every day, and finding the courage to align with love every day. In a sense, true, passionate, divine love is far scarier than "evil", and not fighting is scarier than fighting. It's so much easier to engage not-love. The habit of pushing back is hard to break. Very few of our institutions are centered around pure love, so on top of everything, the path is lonely. There seems to be no "there" there, yet...But it is there, within many of us, and emerging. 

I am trying not to get discouraged by what is visible in society, and in the environment, right now. Somehow, releasing the need to fight everything that is wrong has opened up a beautiful doorway which makes life worth living. It releases me from a sense of hopelessness, and maybe it will do the same for you. A universe of such spectacular beauty is out there (and at our feet). The throb and pulsation of love and life is in every atom, a gift from Her. 

 

Overheating

Except for a few short warm spells, Duluth has not been as hot as elsewhere in the country. And for a few more days it will be coolish and rainy before heating up; at this time of year, the "cooler by the lake" effect usually starts to fizzle out. All winter, I had dreamed of sitting outside with friends, and this weekend it was possible and comfortable. Even so, I had to remember that 75 degrees was a full 100 degrees hotter than common on a day in January, and that those frigid winter conditions are this region's "payoff" for summer comfort, you might say.  Looking across the pond, it has been hard to watch the death of my assumption that the UK would forever stay within temperate range (about 30 degrees F to 80 degrees F). The meteorologically unexpected can -- and will -- happen from now on. 

Scanning the various morning TV news programs this weekend, it seemed as if every aspect of our life was described in terms of "overheating" or fire. Yes, there are the literal fires around the world, a volcano in Japan, etc. But the metaphors referencing COVID and monkeypox, the economy, politics, Ukraine, gun violence, naming but a few, were also all about heat. If they weren't about heat, they were about "fighting". Al Gore was interviewed about the extreme weather conditions, and I honor his longtime efforts on behalf of the environment. But his focus is on what we need to do, and my gut feeling is that we have long since passed the point where such action, alone, will have any permanent effect. 

In the end, these ills are primarily manifestations of belief. In the environmental arena, we have believed it appropriate to abuse the earth for the sake of "free" resources. Earth has effectively been our slave, a worker with no pay and no say. We have insisted on flow with no ebb, progress with no periods of rest and reflection, profit at all costs. None of this reflects the values I believe to be of the divine feminine. What's challenging is that fighting the old mindset will only add to the heat. (I wonder if any scientists have studied that!) It's important to find a way to stay physically cool right now, but once we do, staying mentally cool -- or at least ratcheting down the Old Paradigm "fight or flight" impulse -- will help. Mother Nature needs to do what She needs to do to rebalance this precious jewel of a planet. Whatever the cost to myself, I'm going to allow Her to be Her whenever I can, because there is no doubt in my mind that She knows more about balance than we do. 

Many years ago, well before I consciously became so clear about my Goddess orientation, I wrote an interesting list of "Goddess Words". I came across it the other day, and in the spirit of articulating and grounding the building blocks of a potential future era, I'll start featuring these words from time to time. I've never had a job I loved, but oh, do I love this writing! 

Some More on Nonviolence

I woke up this morning with nonviolence still on my mind, so I'll continue this "thread".

In world arenas where armed conflict is possible or likely, nonviolence is a major step forward. I mean, leaders who espoused nonviolence in recent history were promoting a step in the right direction for humanity, and I honor them. They did shift the energy considerably, and started to open the way to less brutal ways of solving human disagreements. They shifted human consciousness.

But today, in 2022, there seems to be more violence than ever, at least it feels that way. And when I look at groups of protesters, say, on opposite sides of the street and any given divide, it is hard to distinguish them from one another. Faces are angry, voices are angry, the placards can be cutting and nasty. The "vibration" I feel as an observer (even when I am more supportive of one side) can be hard, confrontational and, yes, even potentially violent. The duality construct is still very much in place, as is the notion that sides are aligned against one another. Each group may hope very much that they will "win".

So what was on my mind this morning was semi-humorous (if there is such a thing!) Have you ever heard of a musician described as "nonviolent"? A visual artist? A sculptor? A choreographer or dancer? A creative writer or poet? A basket-weaver or potter? I mean, the whole context of creating art is to create beauty -- there is no "presumption of violence" that creative people have to differentiate themselves from. And the inevitable contrasts that artists deal with are just that, contrasts. They are not sides to be pitted one against the other. I've said this before -- in a choir, it is not the job of the altos to attack the basses, or the tenors to attack the sopranos. The various sections don't fight to be louder or more dominant, they work together to blend. Visual artists don't set red against green, or clay against metal. Dancers don't pick up their partners only to throw them violently to the ground. Knitters don't purl in order to attack their previous row of knitting, they do it to create beautiful and hardy rows of stitches.

Now, this isn't to say that in our competitive economic construct, there isn't stressful effort to perfect skills, to get grants, to survive, and to be seen/recorded/sold. But that is more a reflection of how we have chosen to operate, financially, than the arts themselves. And artists in various media often comment on or illustrate societal ills, wars, and injustice. But what they do creatively in that effort is fairly unlikely to be violent, per se. 

I guess all I am saying is that there is a realm of human effort that is, to its essential core, beyond "nonviolent". I'm still struggling for the right word on this Saturday morning, but it's helpful to remember that violence isn't the only human condition, and not all human activities have to reference it. Those of us who are just "done" with violence and conflict can turn to artistic expression, not so much as a refuge, but as a valid larger model (completely outside the violence orbit) for society's future. 

Nonviolence

It occurred to me that what I said last time -- about the spread of mass shootings changing my reading and TV watching -- could possibly make it seem like I am trivializing the shootings and their effect on society, individuals and families. That isn't the case. In fact, I find all these events utterly horrifying, as I do all forms of violence, including war. It literally breaks my heart.

I mean, there's a point where you are so "nonviolent" that you don't even like that term, since it contains the word "violence" and implies opposition to violence. The term itself, then, is very mildly violent. On some level that I don't even fully understand, I've come to see most forms of struggle, protest, opposition, competition -- even unarmed -- as too "violent", and not unified in the way I think we will need to operate as the future unfolds. It implies duality, one side v. another.

So what I was getting at (and I'll leave the previous post as is for now) is that, when you are too "nonviolent" to "fight" the upsetting trends in our world, the only thing left to change is yourself. That has led to constantly scanning my own life, to see ways in which I act violently, think violently, or "consume" violent or conflict-rich entertainment or pastimes. 

The first two, I am pretty sure have not been part of my life, although I guess I will always need to stay alert to the possibility. It's been completely frustrating, trying to operate in a world that is largely on such a different wavelength from me, and I know that at times, frustration has equated anger, or brought me close to the potential for anger, particularly in my words. But actual violence? Hurting other people? I know on occasion I've wanted to express my own hurt, but I have no conscious memory of ever having deliberately wanted to cause others any pain, physically or emotionally. I hope I haven't, anyway, and I hope that I would have the courage to own it if I did...

So my biggest "relationship" to conflict has been in the area of entertainment, and there is where actual change is clearly happening. I used to enjoy watching pro football. My dad was a NY Giants fan, and I became knowledgeable about the sport in order to have something to share with him. In the 70's and 80's, I knew more about the teams and watched more games in the fall than any of my female friends. But in the last ten years, it has reached the point where I cannot stand football any more. It's men violently tackling each other, and there is nothing enjoyable about that. I grew up playing tennis, and until very recently, I loved watching the major events: French Open, Wimbledon, U.S. Open. But now, I find even tennis matches too painful to watch. Those 100-mph serves almost look like bullets. Singing competitions like "The Voice" are great in the early stages, but once the contestants are pitted against one another, I don't watch any more. I can still tolerate "Jeopardy", in part because at my age, I need to keep challenging my brain. But a year from now...?

And it's not like any of this is a conscious choice, as in, "I'm going to stop reading certain kinds of books, or watching certain TV shows or movies". A number of months ago, I took some murder mysteries out of the library, made my way a few pages into one of the books, and just went, ugh. I tried another, and the same thing happened. So it isn't a boycott or protest. The energetic match simply is no longer there. And I'm further than ever from understanding why any human being picks up a gun, for any reason. It's a little scary to realize that I'm even struggling with public television staples about history, antiques, and genealogy, because war inevitably factors into them. I honor the people who served in the military, but I just can no longer "embrace" guns, uniforms, and death.

Well, that's enough for today. I guess all of this is the inevitable discomfort of moving into new spiritual territory. I'm trying to come up with a better word or phrase for "nonviolent", and I'll check in when I come up with one.

 

A Strange Time

This is such a strange time.

I am finding myself feeling emotions that I didn't know were there.

Because of the increase in mass shootings, I can no longer read almost any murder mysteries. I still like the mystery concept, but almost all of these books are about solving murders, and even the intelligent British ones that I've liked up until now, I cannot tolerate any more. Ditto their television versions, "Vera", "Shetland", etc. I cannot find the original "Law and Order" on regular TV right now, but I think the same will apply to it. 

One sort of bizarre exception to this, the last few weeks, has been "Dateline". Maybe it is Keith Morrison's hypnotic voice, or maybe the fact that it is so formulaic and predictable...or the fact that it's too hot to try new things. I always realize, me being me, that there is some kind of lesson in everything, and last night I figured out what it has been. So many episodes involve a woman going missing (and, more often than not, turning up dead). In almost every case, there appears to be a loving family searching tirelessly for her, and/or for justice. It's like I am watching people from another planet. I have tried to imagine my own family tirelessly searching for me if I had disappeared at any point in my life, and perhaps I am being unfair to them, but I just cannot see it. I would have searched for them (at least until recently) but I just don't think it would have happened the other way around. The episode last night was actually a far more complex story about a little girl being abducted and spending her whole life trying to find her birth family. In the end, she does, and there are warm, tearful, genuine expressions of love and hugs all around. I burst into tears, of course. 

I have no memory of my parents ever hugging me (although I must have been held as an infant, before I could walk). As an adult, I would try to hug them when I saw them after a long absence, but they just couldn't do it. My brothers did this odd, arms-encircling-you-then-just-tapping-you-on-the-shoulder thing. It was like I had leprosy. And I guess, in a way, I did have something they either barely had, or couldn't deal with being infected with -- a modest capacity to love. 

And, as most of you know, the one thing on earth I have loved thoroughly and unconditionally ever since I can remember, and it's a country: England. And England is currently on fire.

So it's a really, really strange time. The paradox: to find and really feel the threads of past and present pain, rejection, fear...and yet not to get too stuck in that place. To go, "Wow, now I get it!" and try to keep looking forward in love. If I can love one thing today, that will be a big accomplishment.

650th

This is a milestone. This is my 650th published post in this blog. I know there are only a handful of you reading "The Liz Path" and I am so honored that you are sticking with me! It's so interesting how I had far more readers early on, and they are dropping away as I have become more courageous about speaking my truth. It's kind of the way my whole life has gone. But I have no regrets, either in life or in blogging! In my kind of paradigm, this sort of wisdom effort would be worth its weight in gold. In our current paradigm, of course, it is only "worth" anything if I advertise other products. And I cannot bear to do that. So I continue, writing for its own sake, thinking for its own sake, analyzing as best I can for its own sake (and for the sake of future generations) and learning to love for love's own sake.

I probably will be writing a little more often now, not necessarily every day, but when led to do so, not stopping myself with an artificial schedule. 

There are two things on my mind this morning. The first is that I am definitely finding out about more and more people who have or have had COVID. Someone asked me yesterday what my take is on this pandemic. I was grateful to be asked, yet after all this time, it's hard to sum it up. You have probably noticed that I am walking a very fine line about it. I accept how virulent and adaptable it has become, and have taken prudent steps to follow the mandates and avoid being exposed -- vaccinations, boosters, masking indoors and on buses, and sometimes outdoors. But I knew from day one that the effort to actively "fight" the disease would likely cause it to spread. Fear would likely cause it to spread. I don't think Nature set out to hurt us; new viruses and bacteria are forms of life expressed from the heart of the Goddess, just as every human is, every plant and animal is, every drop of water is. Life is ever renewing and replenishing within lifetimes and between lifetimes, so theoretically, we need not fear death or over-demonize certain life forms. But having been taught to do those things, it is not surprising that this has become another out-and-out battle. It's so sad.

On a similar note, regarding heat and fires around the world, someone on the news spoke of our "struggle with Mother Nature". What can I say? These kinds of phrases drive me crazy. Starting thousands of years ago, had each human endeavor included consultation with someone representing Goddess/Planetary consciousness thinking (probably, but not necessarily female), we wouldn't be in this mess. The future health of the earth would always have been part of our planning...we wouldn't have gone to such lengths to subdue our earth home. In subduing it, we have cut off its natural (and gentler) ways of achieving balance. Nature thus has no choice but to take ever more extreme measures to return earth to viability. We can choose to work with Her, or fight against Her, but I am almost certain the latter cannot work. 

Amazing to realize that 649 posts ago, the notion of pandemic wasn't on my radar screen, and even climate chaos wasn't a daily concern. How much has changed in seven years!

Saturday Self-Expression

There are so many things to write about, I am having a hard time limiting myself to every three-to-four days...and of course, I don't really have to muzzle myself, do I?! I think I've continued to try to spare my small handful of readers (kind of, "they won't want to read these deep musings on a daily basis...") But, of course, this is me, again, putting the assumptions I have of others (which may well be wrong!) ahead of my own instincts. When you are the daughter of an off-the-scale narcissist, it is a daily balancing act between complete self-effacement and complete self-absorption (to save yourself from erasure). A third path is slowly surfacing, which is measured, valid self-expression on the Goddess's behalf...to listen to Her and stop worrying about the after-effects of Him. 

So, yeah, I could say more about "ownership", but what is there to say but that the only "owner" is Nature? And I could point out yet again that anything you fight gets bigger, in a week of news that is all about fighting: fighting the new surge of COVID, fighting high prices and inflation, the fighting in Ukraine, fighting racism, each side fighting the other on abortion, fighting flight delays, fighting high temperatures, fighting forest fires...even my beloved England is unusually hot, and there are fires all over Europe.

Instead, this.

If all of this is about our world making a rapid transition to a higher spiritual/physical plane, emerging out of duality and conflict into a finer, more unified construct, then one thing I have been expecting and am really noticing now is changes to my own physical body. Maybe some of you are going through this too. On the one hand, I feel as "old as the hills". In the morning, I move around like Frankenstein. I don't have the strength that I used to have, and I worry constantly about potential falls. I'm doing old lady things to try to stay safe, reach things easily, and find shortcuts. Yet, in other ways, I feel younger, renewed. When I stand up, I feel taller than I have in recent years. A bit more statuesque.

Then there is my hair, which for all intents and purposes I have ignored since the start of the pandemic. In those two-and-a-half years, it has grown. And grown. And grown. It is now far longer than it has ever been, about halfway down my back. Not only that, but with the exception of white hair around my face and white streaks and strands here and there throughout, the overall color is a deeper brownish-red than I can ever remember. I broke down and had it trimmed two days ago, and the stylist asked if I've recently been coloring it or adding highlights. Absolutely not. There is something so wonderfully liberating about this fiery head of long hair. It's as if on some level, the cells (I almost said, "souls"!) in my body recognize that this is a universal turning point and, on balance, they want not only to survive but to thrive, to really live. To buck the trends. To put passion out there in a non-hurtful form. To be unforgettable, potentially beautiful. I've never thought of myself as beautiful...

It will be really interesting to see what happens to all aspects of being-hood as we humans move away from conflict. (Believe me, despite appearances, most of us are starting to do that, and soon won't have any option but to do so!) Physically, all this fighting has sapped us and caused disease. Our physical bodies may start to operate a little differently, the course of some illnesses may run in unexpected ways (for good or ill) and even our looks may change. It will become less about using outward products and procedures, and more about the vibrations we produce...How we "express" ourselves, on Saturdays and every other day of the week.

Ownership

Several posts ago, I said I'd write a little more about ownership. Obviously, this is a huge topic, so for today, I'll just do my best with a little slice of it.

And the caveat, for anyone who might stumble upon this essay without having read previous ones, is that, for all intents and purposes, I own nothing apart for some well-used clothes, books, and, in boxes back east, some smallish family memorabilia. No house or property, no car, no furnishings, nothing of size or value. Essentially, I own myself. That's it. That fact can't help but skew my perspective on a key element of Western culture.

I remember having an "aha" moment back when I was teaching community college; something I read in preparation for a class spoke of the longings of ordinary Europeans (in the times of kings being landowners and serfs owning nothing) to own their own property. Part of the impetus driving people to the "New World" was the promise of a place of one's own. I guess I had never thought of it like that, and it made perfect sense. Families guaranteed a tract of land, or told "if you make your way to such-and-such a territory, farmland will be yours", must have been willing to undergo almost any upheaval and risk to uproot themselves. Of course, the notion that this land was "free" or "empty" or "didn't belong to anyone yet" was a complete fallacy. What the original peoples lost in this land grab is incalculable.

But my perspective recently is far more informed by trying to get into the head of Mother Nature. Gaia. The Soul of the Earth. Words cannot express my dismay at this larger theft, this grab of land, water, air, "natural resources", and even outer space for power, ownership and profit purposes. It is completely unthinkable that we have given virtually no thought to Her rights, Her sovereignty, Her health. A century or two from now, I am convinced that the relatively few humans still on the planet will look back at our time in complete incredulity, stunned that we factored the health of the earth into our plans in such a limited way. 

Ultimately, I don't think it matters whether I believe private ownership (let's just say of property) is -- or isn't -- a good thing. (I haven't tipped over and become a Communist, for instance. That, too, seems to be a top-down system with little genuine regard for the earth.) It's just that I don't believe it is possible. Humans cannot genuinely "own" the land in any real sense. People whose homes and properties have disappeared under water or the rubble of earthquakes, or have been wiped out by fires, volcanos, or tornados, have at least some experience of the reality, which is that Earth (and its natural processes) owns itself. She owns "Herself". Any system that doesn't respect that larger "ownership" is, at best, based on a tragic misunderstanding, and cannot be sustained.

Yeah, easy enough for me to say. Would I give almost anything right now to learn that some long lost uncle has willed me a small property and the money to maintain it for the rest of my life? You bet. Would I give anything not to be looking forward to a homeless, wandering old age, or the other hard option for me, public low income senior housing? You bet. But could I have lived any differently, given how uncomfortable I am with "ownership"? Probably not.

Dances

Yesterday helped me realize the extent to which the COVID time has been anxiety-provoking...or perhaps brought up anxieties that I've previously been too successful pushing under the surface.

A friend and I made plans to attend a dance performance that was scheduled last evening down on the Lakewalk. It genuinely appealed, being near the water, watching people move in beauty. But the planning of this rather modest outing brought on a host of anxieties. When I have had a car, I've always been an excellent driver and great at planning trips (short and long) and figuring out whatever had to be figured out on the road or getting from Point A to Point B. But this long car-free stretch of years has made me frustratingly dependent; not being in control in a downtown crowded with people gathering for the postponed fireworks sent my brain's planning muscles into overdrive, even though, ultimately, my input was not needed at all! My friend found the perfect parking space only about two blocks from the event. For the first time ever, I was anxious over the potential for violence in the streets, but thankfully that was unfounded. The other thing was my old-ladyishness, carrying a tote bag with a snack, flashlight (in case it got dark!), extra jacket and scarf (much needed near still-frigid Lake Superior), bottle of water, and, of course, a mask, which I wore in the tightly-packed crowd. I was one of the few...most of this was simply sensible life-in-the-north-country kind of stuff, but I felt like my grandmother reincarnated!

What a relief it was, then, when the dance performances started. I am not a dancer. I took one or two ballet classes back in my late teens and early twenties (when I was slimmer) and essentially the teachers dissuaded me from moving forward. I am just simply not "in my body" enough to be successful. So watching dancers both young and somewhat older move so beautifully and with such agility to beautiful music, as the sun was setting over a deep blue lake, was heavenly. My brain turned off for an hour. I couldn't stop smiling. There was "flow" all around me, from the waves on the lake, to the beautifully-choreographed expression of the dancers, to the constant running around of the small children in the crowd. It was life. Unstoppable life. Unstoppable dances. All anxieties melted away. Thank the Goddess. 

On the Half Moon

For the last few days, Lake Superior has served up cool east winds, dense fog and rain, not conducive to city-wide or neighborhood fireworks on the Fourth. The former have been postponed, the latter still went off in a half-hearted kind of way. I am sure I have said it before; I dislike fireworks. They sound like war, and I cannot understand how that signifies celebration (except in constructs, of course, that venerate war...) The colorful displays would be great with no accompanying booms.

So on Monday, I didn't exactly celebrate "My Freedom" (see my previous post). It was a dark, interior kind of day. I guess the emotion that came up more strongly was a sense of wonder. I still cannot believe, some days, that I have survived a life at such an arm's length from our masculine-dominated/conflict-driven/profit-driven culture. I've recently accepted that this became an active choice on my part. I could feel the vibration of the life song I was "singing", knew it was completely at odds with the "song" our institutions were singing, and knew that I couldn't adjust my song enough to harmonize with them. As terrifying as it was, I knew that it left me virtually without a safety net. All of this may have been less about men, and more about not being able to function in settings not focused on beauty and love. I would sacrifice all the freedom I've had to have had a genuinely loving family, to have been warmly embraced in the field I loved, to have made an easy transition into the home place that I loved and found beautiful, and to have experienced some sense of being nurtured, valued, and honored for exactly how strong, creative and independent I am! "Freedom", in those conditions, isn't such a high priority, is it? 

At the end of the day Monday, I guess I wasn't terribly surprised at news reports of yet more mass shootings. The line between the sounds/energies of fireworks and gunfire is just too blurred. And this morning, reports are that human sights have turned to ownership of the moon. I need to write more about the concept of ownership...but on this half moon day, my hunch is that the last thing the moon wants is to be "owned".

My Freedom

45 years ago, at my Smith College graduation, the college president celebrated the fact that we might just be the first class heading out into the world with the opportunity to have it all, a great career, meaningful volunteer work, a husband, children...words to that effect (and unspoken was the assumption that we would always have a home, and food on the table!) We now had the tools for a completely satisfying journey, one that would be personally challenging, but also enrich the world.

What I didn't understand back then was the reality that, in order to do all these things, I would have to engage constantly and effectively with "the patriarchy". Heck, my all-girls' schools and all-women's college were part of that system of male power; birthed to address its inequities, yes, but still functioning within it. And what I didn't understand about myself yet was that my core adhered to feminine principles that were effectively the complete opposite of society's. I've spoken many times about how I functioned worse and worse as time went by, achieving none of those goals that had been so well-meaningly promised...It's like being a plant, at 21 transplanted into non-nurturing soil, given uneven amounts of rain and sunlight, barely hanging on for dear life -- but having a solid stem that stubbornly refuses to die. I've had, and still have, so little personal connection to male leadership, perhaps because I knew I couldn't follow it! My dad, bless him, was too empty to provide guidance, my brothers stayed at arm's length, I never married, I couldn't enter the all-male profession I would have liked to enter, I rarely had male bosses or supervision at jobs, I never earned significant amounts of money, and I have no investments (having "inherited" $725 which went directly into a trip to England!) I only spent about a year of my adult life living with men who at times tried to think for me (and that was about all I could take!) For a few years, I owned funny old cars, but never "real" property or a home. 

I don't recommend this freedom path to any woman, because of how excruciatingly hard it is. "My freedom" probably won't look like freedom to many people. But by the same token, as all of us try to make sense of the events roiling around us, and we hear grand phrases about "freedom" and "history" and "tradition", I guess my wish is that we women try to refocus, if only within ourselves, on our freedom, our her-story, and the traditions we might have started, left to our own devices. What, in your heart of hearts, constitutes "freedom" for you? Also, what might "independence day" look like to Mother Earth? -- surely not millions of cars and RVs on the road, the sky over-filled with airplanes, the lakes with motorboats, and tons of trash from fireworks and millions of cookouts. 

On Monday, I'll celebrate the fact that no one owns my soul, my brain, or my body. Somehow, as hard as it has been to stay alive, I have been "free" for 66 years. (Fireworks are going off within!)